Haywire

Chapter Two: Chase The Ace

While the Big L catered to it's small array of customers, a single school bus lumbered down the highway. The driver was sweating heavily, trying to keep his cool under the pressure of at least 50 foals. Sitting just behind him were the Cutie Mark Crusaders, singing loudly.

Finally, they stopped.

"Whew!" he sighed, "just for a minute there, I thought I was gonna-"

"One more time!" Scootaloo cheered, "We are the Cutie Mark Crusaders, on a quest to find out who we are...."

"AIR DAMN IT!" he growled, and he began to repetitively hit his head on the steering wheel.

"Checker, STOP!" Cheerilee cried, sitting across from him, "You'll hurt yourself!"

"Sorry," he chuckled, "It's just, those kids.... They're messin' with my mind! By the way, not that don't enjoy your company, but remind me WHY you had to come along on this field trip?"

"To make sure YOU didn't drive the bus into a ditch, like you did last time!" she replied in a frustrated tone, "seriously, Checker, you've got problems, you gotta calm down!"

Cheerilee then crossed the aisle to the seat directly behind the driver's seat . She told the Cutie Mark Crusaders to move into her old seat, and to leave Checker alone.

"There," she chimed happily, "problem solved!"

****

Meanwhile, Spitfire was sitting in a junky red Cadillac, and faring no better than Checker. She was locked in a car with Fleetwood Brougham, some weirdo who had agreed to give her a ride.

"So, sugar pie," he said smoothly, putting his hoof on her leg, "how far up the road are you goin'?"

"As far as you can keep your hands to yourself, scumbag!" she snapped back.

"Look out, Fleet," laughed Soarin' from the back seat, "she's a feisty one!"

As soon as Spitfire calmed down, she asked if she could turn on the radio.

"Sure, sure," Fleetwood said in a friendly manner, perhaps even TOO friendly, "go ahead, I don't mind. Unless it's dubstep, that is, I HATE DUBSTEP."

Soarin' began to argue with their transporter, saying that dubstep was, "A new breed of music, man!" but this all faded into the backround as Spitfire focused on the radio. She turned the dial back and forth, but couldn't find the smallest signal. Then, she found a tiny signal.

"....Since our microwave facilities went down, but the strange reports continue to come in. Please, if you are near or on a major highway, GET AWAY AT ONCE-"

"I hate that channel," Fleetwood said flatly, grabbing the dial with his free hoof, and tuning it away from the channel.

"Didn't you hear them?" Spitfire asked, concern in her voice, "we've gotta get off the highway. Look, pull into this truckstop right here."

"I'd rather not," he replied, putting his hoof on her leg again, "i'm too cozy right here!"

Finally, Spitfire had enough of this guy. "Here, gimme the steering wheel!" She then lunged for the steering wheel, and tried to force the Cadillac over.

"Whoa, girl, watch it, what're you tryin' to do?!" her perverse transporter yelled, fighting for control of the car.

"Hey, Ray!" Seventy Six chuckled, "Look at these idiots!"

The small amount of customers looked out the window to see a red Cadillac swerving into the parking lot, a large amount of movement going on inside it. It slid around on the loose dirt and gravel parking lot for several seconds, and then came to a screeching halt.

Spitfire opened the door of the Cadillac, and began to walk toward the diner.

"Wow," Eldorado mumbled, "she's a purdy one, I tell you what."

She nearly got through the double doors, when Fleetwood ran up to her.

"What in Equestria was that, missy?" he raged, "I offer to give you and your eating-obsessed friend over there a ride in my brand new Cadillac car, and you nearly KILLED ME! You know, back in my day, ladies would be gentler...."

Little did Fleetwood know that he was in danger.

Nearby, Bubba was filling up Ray's truck, when it roared into life, and begin to rev. The truck turned it's steering wheel so it was pointed toward the quarreling two ponies. Then, it Grinded into first, and took off toward them, snapping the pump's nozzle right out of it's gas tank.

"You idiot!" Bubba called as it sped away, "You're not full yet!"

Luckily, Spitfire saw the truck in time, and threw Fleetwood and herself out of the way. The truck raced by, blaring it's horn, and stopped just short of running into the old playground that was kept on the property to entertain foals.

"Oh, sweet Celestia," Fleetwood whispered, "you saved my life! How can I ever repay you?!" He threw his arms around Spitfire, agitating her yet again.

"You can thank me by keeping your FILTHY HOOVES OFF ME!" She roared, pushing him down into the dirt. Soarin' ran over, and helped him up.

"Sorry about her," he said sympathetically to the drifter, "she just doesn't like you."

"Eh, it's fine, boy," Fleetwood said, sounding like a 50-year-old, even though he was only 1 year older than Soarin', "i'll eventually get her on my side!"

"Yeah, I doubt that, buddy," the Wonderbolt chuckled, walking into the diner.

"Hey, Ray," Grenville called out, "Isn't that your rig that nearly squashed those two?"

"Yeah," Ray replied, "Yeah, as a matter of fact, that WAS my truck! Do you think someone wanted them dead, and used the truck as a weapon?"

"That could be possible," Seventy inquired, "But if they did, they must have hotwired it." He held up Ray's keys to the truck.

"Mr. Eldorado?" Roseluck asked, "What's going on today?"

"Bucked if I know, Rosie," Eldorado replied flatly, "bucked if I know...."

Meanwhile, back on the highway, Lyra, Bon-Bon, and Carrot Top lumbered along in their battered Oldsmobile, still reeling from the accident on the bridge.

"Where are we?" Lyra wondered out loud, snacking on the watermelon that had landed in the car earlier.

"Wherever we are, we're almost outta gas!" replied the ginger-maned pony, tapping the fuel guage.

"Hey, there's a station over there!" Bon-Bon burst out, pointing at a shack with two old gas pumps out front on the side of the road, "pull in over there!"

The Olds station wagon pulled into the abandoned service station, and the three stepped out and stretched their legs.

Bon-Bon looked for a service attendant, but found noone.

"Hello?" she called, walking around outside the small store, "is anyone here?" She peered into the dark window, but saw nothing. She looked up casually, and then to her suprise found a clock running BACKWARDS!

"What in the world?" she muttered to herself, wondering how this could happen. She was about to trot back to the others, when she noticed hooves stretched out from under a bush, covered in blood.

"Uh, Lyra?" she wimpered, pointing to the corpse, "I think I found the service attendant!"

"Is he dead?" Lyra whispered, asking the obvious.

Just then, the three travelers heard a high-pitched squealing noise, similar to a drill. It cut off, giving way to the growl of a diesel engine. A rusty tow truck emerged from a lot behind the building, and began to rev it's engine.

"HEY!" Lyra screamed, waving her hooves, "Someone over here's hurt!"

The truck just continued to rev, the driver not paying attention to her signals.

Carrot Top ran over to the two, and forced Lyra's hooves down "What are you doing?!" she whispered sharply, "that guy is probably the one who killed the service attendant, make sure he doesn't see us!"

The three jumped into the bush with the body, and watched the truck. The driver seemed to be waiting for something. Just then, they noticed a school bus drive by. The wrecker than lurched into gear, and raced off after it.

Checker was doing much better: The Cutie Mark Crusaders had stopped singing, he was traveling a beautiful stretch of highway, and his favorite mare was talking to him.

"So, Cheerilee," he said nervously, trying to make conversation, "have you ever been to Camp Wanahoova before?"

"Yeah!" she replied exitedly," I have! Isn't it beautiful?"

"I know, right? My favorite part's that HUGE redwood they have, you know, with the gift shop built into-"

"LOOK OUT!"

By the time Cheerilee had screamed, a huge tow truck had given chase to the bus, and fiercly rammed the bus. The foals screamed in terror as the truck mustered another attack.

"Hang on!" Checker yelled to the kids as he flung the bus's steering wheel to the left.

****

The bus swerved onto a dirt side road, it's great tires roaring more than squealing, and the truck followed. The two vehicles began to pick up speed. The truck had begun to gain on them when Sweetie Belle let out a shriek of horror from the back seat.

"THERE'S NOONE DRIVING THAT THING!"

The Crusaders were so close, they could see a faint green glow emitting from the grille of their pursuer. The truck came alongside, and stayed there for a few seconds while everypony held their breath. Suddenly, another cry broke their silence, this time from Silver Spoon.

"LOOK OUT, IT'S GONNA BUMP US!"

The truck lunged at the bus, and shoved hard into it in an attempt to run them off the road, the bus sliding on the dirt road, barely avoiding crashing into the thick woods on each side of the narrow road.

Just then, the dirt path merged onto a paved freeway, strangely empty for the morning rush hour, where the bus made it's move. The speedometer pegged at 80 MPH, and probably rising higher, Checker finally managed to put some distance between him and the truck. He was about to breath a sigh of relief, when he noticed a red light on the dash of the bus. The temperature of the engine had exceded 200 degrees, and steam began to pour from under the hood.

"It's that stupid air hose again!" he growled as the bus began to slow.

The truck began to rapidly pick up lost ground, and rejoined the bus side-by-side on the blacktop. It was preparing for another ram when he decided to speak up.

"Cheerilee," he said solemnly, turning to face her, "if we don't make it through this, I wanted to tell you that I love you."

Cheerilee gasped in suprise, her face turning from fear to shock as she took in his startling revelation. She never knew this about Checker because he always kept his feelings for her so secret. Her expression turned to fear again as the tow truck swerved into the side of the bus, knocking her out of her seat.

"CHECKER!" she screamed, "MAKE IT STOP!"

"Hold on!" he replied, throwing the steering wheel to the right. The bus slid off the highway, and onto an exit, the truck following. Checker KNEW he had to stop this thing, he just had to.

The truck gave the bus another hard push. This time, Checker had enough. Instead of trying to shy away from the blows, he delibrately kept contact with the truck. He then began to manipulate the huge machine, trying to steer it with the bus, and shoving it off the road, and down the slope of the overpass.

Their opponent hit the ground, and a huge fireball erupted from it's fuel tanks. The foals stared in disbelief as the huge metal beast burned. Finally, Cheerilee mustered a few words as she turned to Checker, her eyes wide in fear, half-believing that the horrible pile of steel would burst into life again and give chase.

"CHECKER!" she cried, "WHAT'S GOING ON-"

"I DON'T KNOW!" he fired back sharply, his fear getting the best of him too. Just then, the two ponies, tired from their chase, stared into each other's eyes, and realized how much it meant to be alive. The two locked in a warm embraced, and locked in a kiss lasting several minutes. Finally, the two seperated, and looked at each other nervously.

Then, Checker noticed a large wooden sign on the other side of the road. It read, "Lunoco Truckstop: Diner, Arcade, Shower Facilities, Next Exit."

"Well," he said, rubbing the back of his head, "We should probably call the police from there."

Just then, a battered Oldsmobile station wagon came barreling up from behind, repeatedly tooting it's horn. the car stopped alongside the bus, and a green mare leaned out the passenger window.

"Hey, buddy!" she called, "you alright?"

"I'm fine!" Checker yelled back, but then he remembered the radiator had failed. "On second thought," he continued, "we may need a push to the Lunoco Truckstop."

"What in the hell is going on 'round here?" Ray thought to himself as he looked his truck over. Moments before, somepony had started it in an attempt to murder two customers. He walked over to the cab, and flung the door open, only to find noone inside. He walked back over to the trailer, staring at the huge portrait of a clown on the back, unaware that the truck's power mirror was adjusting to reflect him. As he gazed at the strange picture, the Ignition slot began to turn into the "Start" position.

Ray was startled by the beeping of a horn from somewhere behind him. A black Volkswagen Bus with "DJ PON-3" written on the side of it pulled smoothly into the parking lot, stopping at the gas pumps. The truck would have to wait. Ray trotted over to greet the strange arrivals.